11 Of Broken Hearts & Mended Wounds
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: "Brandishing the knife with an air of brutality, Kyle grinned an ugly grin. "Do me a favor, and don't try to get away," he told Newt. "I'd hate to have to ruin that pretty face."
1. Chapter 1

-Of Broken Hearts & Mended Wounds-

-Okay, well, the only thing I can say about this one is please don't hate me. The idea for this has been running through my mind for a while now and I finally decided to write it. I wrote this for a couple of reasons. Firstly, to show how awful and wrong something like this is. Never ever accept what Kyle does in this fanfiction; although it's never happened to me, it's still very wrong. Secondly, to show that relationships are not always perfect, like what I made Minho and Newt seem like in other stories. I wanted to show that they had some fights too, and didn't agree over everything. No one is perfect and this story tells you that.

This is a two-part fanfic, for all you multi-chapter lovers out there. Rated M for a Minewt scene later, and mentions of violence and rape (though, as always, nothing graphic at all). I think I speak for all of us when I say that my heart really broke for Newt in this one, even if I was the one writing it.

I hope you enjoy this story, because there is a happy ending for you. Reviews are greatly appreciated :)-

Newt wasn't allowed to drive, thanks to the Flare. He could manage pretty well now, with his medication, but the doctor insisted he wait a while longer before he tried driving again. It was always because of the fear of the hallucinations. If one hit him while he was out on the road, it could be deadly. Since he couldn't drive, he'd had to quit his job at Framed. Sonya had been devastated, and promised him a place back when he could work again. He was grateful for that. He wanted to work. He felt bad watching Minho working so much harder now.

Besides, not being able to leave home had other problems.

That day, Newt was the only one in the house when someone knocked on the door.

He was in the kitchen, standing in front of the marble island. It was another one of those lazy days, when he dressed in only sweatpants and a white tee, and his hair was ruffled. On the island in front of him, was a glass half-full of water and a white bottle of pills. Newt had to take the medicine three times a day, or his symptoms would worsen, fast. The Flare was relentless, and had to be fought off constantly. He'd just downed the last pill when the knock came at the door. It was steady, almost too hard. Blinking, he set the glass down again.

Who would be coming by now? It was the middle of the day. Minho was at work and Belle was over at a friend's house. Unless she was getting dropped off early, Newt couldn't think of anyone who'd visit now. Turning back to the medicine, he screwed the cap back on and slid it across the counter to its place by the toaster. Then he made his way to the sink to set the glass down. The knocking came again, more insistent this time. Newt huffed, blowing white-gold bangs out of his face. "Okay, okay, I'm coming," he muttered under his breath.

Padding over the hardwood floor in his socks, he walked down the short hall to the front door. Without a second thought, he unlocked it and pulled it open. He was already taking a breath to say a greeting of some sort. But as soon as he saw who it was, the breath caught in his throat. His entire body froze.

"Well, well, look who it is," Kyle drawled, that old, familiar sneer curling his lips. Black hair, streaked through with emerald, flopped down into his eyes. "I didn't really think I'd be lucky enough to find this place, but look's like my luck's changing." He had just as many piercings, and just as much leather clothing as he'd had that day back at the bar. The day he'd hit on Newt and Minho had broken his nose in response.

Newt couldn't think of one thing to say. What WERE you supposed to say, when some random guy from a bar showed up at your door? He gaped at Kyle in astonishment, hardly believing that this guy had had the nerve to track Newt down.

"You won't believe it, but it was too easy to find this nice place you got here," Kyle went on conversationally. He scanned the white-walled house in faint approval, thumbs slung in his pockets. "Just had to ask one person and they pointed me in the right direction. Though to tell the truth, I thought I'd get the wrong house at first." Everything he said seemed perfectly polite. Except there was an undercurrent of dark intent in his voice and his gaze fixed wickedly on Newt.

Newt managed to find a voice again. "What're you doing here?" was what he came up with.

Kyle shrugged nonchalantly. "I just wanted to talk," he replied, "about a certain night a while ago. Remember that? When your boyfriend humiliated me?" Anger edged into his words then.

That was when Newt knew he was in trouble. He tightened his hold on the door. "What do you want?" he demanded in a low voice. He was prepared to slam the door shut at any moment. Newt wasn't a weakling, but Kyle had once held his ground in a fight with Minho. Newt couldn't take him on.

Kyle's sneer began to fade into something more like a snarl. Taking one step forward, he answered, in a slow, dangerous tone, "you."

That did it. Newt glared at him. "Get out." He started to swing the door closed.

Faster than he could react, Kyle planted his hand on the door with a bang and slammed it back against the inside wall. Newt stiffened. They stood like that for a moment, facing each other with only a foot of space between them. Newt told himself to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. He had to get to a phone, call the police, call Minho. Keeping his hand on the door, Kyle's teeth showed in a deadly smile. "This isn't so bad, now is it?" he asked, stepping farther over the threshold.

Newt's mind raced. Belle was with Katie. Minho was at work. They were safe. That was good.

"You don't have to act like I'm gonna kill you," Kyle chuckled savagely. "Like I said before, it's not like you and I couldn't have some fun..." He advanced farther into the house.

"Get out. Now." Despite his words, Newt took a step back. It was a mistake.

As soon as he did, Kyle was in the house. He shoved the door, hard, behind him and it crashed shut. Before Newt could move, Kyle was in front of him; he slipped a hand to his pocket and when he pulled it out, a wicked blade glinted in his grasp. Brandishing the knife with an air of brutality, Kyle grinned an ugly grin. "Do me a favor, and don't try to get away," he told Newt. "I'd hate to have to ruin that pretty face." Then as fast as it'd come, his grin vanished.

He seized Newt by the collar and wrenched him forward, oblivious to the blonde's gasp. Striding down the hall, Kyle's black boots rang out against the floor as he found his way into the living room. He dragged Newt behind him like he was nothing more than a dog on a leash. And Newt didn't fight back. Kyle had a knife and Newt had nothing. He wouldn't win if he started a fight now. His heart dropped at the thought. He'd have to do whatever Kyle said.

Gritting his teeth, Kyle hauled Newt into the center of the room. With nothing more than a heated glance, he backhanded Newt across the face. A muffled thud sounded and Newt's head jerked to the left. A choked sound escaped him as pain blossomed in his jaw.

"You think it's all right for your boyfriend to EMBARRASS me like that?" Kyle demanded angrily. "Huh?" He hit Newt again, this time hard enough to bruise. The pain in Newt's face was throbbing in waves now. "Where is he anyway?" Kyle asked next. "I wanna talk to him too."

Newt was silent.

Kyle snarled. "Answer me!" He pulled back one hand and the fingers curled. Then he drove his fist straight into Newt's stomach.

Newt couldn't help the strangled cry he let out. Doubling over, he let his weight be supported by Kyle's grip on his collar. Fire spread through his abdomen and made him see stars. Breathing heavily, he shook his head. "He's not...coming," he managed. He would not let Kyle get to Minho.

Kyle snorted. "Don't lie to me, you little—" He broke off suddenly. His fingers knotted in the front of Newt's shirt and he jerked the blonde's head up so that he'd face him. His green eyes blazed. "What's this?" he demanded, snatching Newt's wrist and wrenching his hand up. His wedding ring glinted in the light. "Don't tell me you were MARRIED to that bastard," Kyle scoffed. At Newt's silence, he let out a bark of laughter. "Figures. This'll make things a lot more interesting then."

Newt felt a surge of panic as Kyle tucked his knife away to bring his other hand up to Newt's. "No, don't—" He watched as Kyle painfully ripped the ring off and threw it. Newt flinched as it pinged against the wall and dropped to the floor.

Kyle then dug his fingers hard into Newt's shoulders and thrust their faces close together. "You belong to me now," he growled. He arched a brow. "Understand me, angel?"

Newt swallowed hard and forced himself to meet Kyle's gaze. "Don't call me that."

"Excuse me?" Kyle asked testily.

"Don't call me that."

"I can call you whatever the hell I wanna call you." With that, he shoved Newt back roughly. Newt stumbled backward, but stopped himself before he fell onto the couch. Smirking evilly, Kyle speared his fingers through blonde hair and knotted them in it so hard, Newt cried out.

Yanking the blonde back by his hair, Kyle forced Newt against the couch; Newt sat with his head tipped back because of the hold on his hair and Kyle bent over him. Newt curled his fingers in the couch cushions, fear and despair crowding his mind in equal measures. Maybe he could just get through it, and then call the police, when he was safe again. Then he felt Kyle's awful breath and the press of his mouth on Newt's neck, harsh with rage. Newt whimpered, a sound like that of a dying animal. He had no choice but to let Kyle leave horrid, angry kisses down his neck; had no choice but to let Kyle have him. He'd never wished so much for Minho to be there.

And for the first time in his life, Minho wasn't there to help him.

-x-x-x-

Glade Hospital got a nice surprise that day when Minho practically kicked the door down and strode straight through the lobby to the desk. Planting his hands on it, he leaned toward the very flustered woman seated there. "Where is he?" he demanded breathlessly. His black hair was messily spiked and his dark eyes showed nothing but worry.

The woman's eyebrows shot up into her hair. "I—I'm sorry, I don't know who—"

"Newt!" Minho interrupted impatiently. "Isaac Newton, what room is he in?"

She hurriedly typed in something on her computer and squinted at the screen. Minho waited anxiously, twisting his wedding ring around on his finger. Finally, the woman glanced up again. "Room 104," she answered. Then he started to jog away and she sat up. "Wait, are you friend or family? I can't—"

"He's my husband," Minho called back, without even glancing over his shoulder. He continued straight down the hallway, the bright yellow walls flashing past. Heavy doors lined the hall, with their numbers printed across their fronts. A few white-coated doctors and hobbling patients passed him with curious glances. Minho didn't even look at them. He read every door number desperately, growing more frustrated and worried by the second.

He'd gotten the call at work, though the specifics were never explained. All he knew was that someone had broken in the house and attacked Newt. Whoever it was thought he'd killed Newt and could escape, but Newt had lived. Minho thanked every god he'd ever heard of that Newt had survived. And that Belle hadn't been there. His daughter was safe at Brenda's for the moment, where she could be watched over until it was her turn to visit the hospital. Now wasn't the time for that, unfortunately. Minho had to see him first.

Please, he thought, please be okay. Please don't let this be awful.

The number 104 gleamed from the second-to-the-last door. Minho grabbed the doorknob without hesitation and threw it open. Stepping inside, he glimpsed clean, shining medical equipment and the curtains of a window. The steady whirring of machinery met his ears. It smelled too-clean, like pain and suffering had been scrubbed tediously out of the walls. It reminded him of when he'd been here after a car accident, and then for Newt's broken leg. It was then that he glanced at the bed and saw him. His heart stopped.

Newt was sitting up in bed, his back against an impressive pile of pillows. He was hugging himself as though he was cold, wearing only the loose, white shirt and pants the hospital staff must've given him. He stared at the sheets sightlessly. He looked absolutely awful. His arms were colored with purpling bruises. A bandage had been wrapped around one wrist, and it was stained a sickly pink. His face was marred with a series of scratches along one cheek and a bruise swelled from his eyebrow, making one eye strain to stay open. Judging by the second bandage at his neck, it seemed like someone had attempted to slit his throat.

Minho could barely look at him. "Newt..."

Newt jerked and glanced up then. As soon as he saw Minho, his shoulders slumped, a weight lifted off of them. "Minho."

Minho crossed the room to the bed and took a chair next to it. He couldn't stop looking at those horrible marks on Newt's skin. "Angel," he said softly. "What happened?"

And Newt buried his face in his hands and began to cry. His shoulders shook with his sobs. It was physically painful for Minho to watch. "Oh, love, please don't cry," he cooed. "Please." Instinctively, he reached out to touch Newt's shoulder.

To his shock, Newt jerked away from him. "D—don't touch me!" he choked out. "You don't kn—know what he did. You'll n—never want to touch me again."

Minho stared at him. "You know that's not true," he said gently. "I'd never hate you for what he did."

"You will once you f—find out what it was," Newt hiccuped in response.

Minho's heart twisted with pain. "I could never hate you, Newt," he murmured. He searched Newt's gaze, but his husband wasn't looking at him, wiping the tears away. "Newt?" Minho was desperate for Newt to look at him, to let him know he believed what Minho said. Newt closed his eyes. "Newt, I love you," Minho said pleadingly. "I've loved you since I was seventeen years old. Nothing can change that. Please believe me."

Newt sniffed weakly, and gave a little nod. Relief made Minho sigh under his breath. He would't be able to forgive himself if he made Newt think he didn't love him anymore. He ached to hold Newt in his arms, but he guessed that it might be a bad idea right now, when the blonde was feeling so vulnerable and upset. Instead, he laced his fingers together in his lap. His thumb rubbed absently over his ring. Glancing up, he looked for its twin and was surprised when he saw that Newt's hands were bare. "Where's your ring?" he asked concernedly.

"Oh." Newt reached for his ring finger, touching the place where his ring would've been. "I—I lost it. When he, um." He broke off abruptly.

"It's okay," Minho assured him, before Newt's tears would spill over again. "We can get a new one." He watched Newt's face for a moment. He hated seeing Newt like this. He wanted to end whoever had done this to him. Quietly, he asked, "do you know who it was?"

Newt was silent for a long long moment. Then he reluctantly nodded. "I can't tell you though," he murmured.

Minho blinked. "Why not?"

"Because then you'll go after him."

Minho wanted to argue, but deep inside, he knew it was true. He'd go after anyone who had hurt Newt. He let the subject drop and moved on to another, maybe more sensitive one. "What did he do to you?"

Newt shut his eyes. He turned his face away from Minho.

Minho decided to try a different tactic. "Did he...beat you?" he asked very quietly.

Newt exhaled shakily. "...yes," he whispered, eyes still shut.

Minho felt the fury flare up inside of him, but he forced it down again. It was useless right now, and besides, anger would get him nowhere with Newt in this state. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down. "Okay. Okay. Um." He glanced at those bandages on Newt's neck and wrist. "Did he do this to you?" he asked, carefully taking Newt's wrapped wrist in his hands.

Newt opened his eyes and watched Minho's fingers ghosting over his skin. "Yes," he answered in that same, hushed whisper.

"Okay," Minho said again. "It's all right. We'll—"

"That's not all he did," Newt cut him off. He sat very still, his body suddenly tensed.

Minho blinked. "What else did he do?"

Newt didn't move for another minute.

Minho felt the beginnings of dread in his heart. "Newt?"

Newt closed his eyes again and dropped his head in shame. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "I wanted him to stop, I swear, but he had a knife."

At first, Minho didn't get it. But he saw the utter mortification in Newt's expression and remembered how Newt was terrified of Minho touching him. He looked at Newt with new understanding. "Newt...did he...rape you?" he asked very softly.

Newt let out a pained sound when he heard it and brought one hand up to his eyes. "I'm sorry," he managed thickly. "I'm sorry I let him. I didn't have any other choice."

Minho couldn't comprehend the words at first. His mind wouldn't let him even think of it. Wouldn't let him believe that after eight years of them being together, someone else had seen Newt like that. Had touched him like that. Touched him in ways that only Minho had. Deep, black rage made him clench his jaw. Newt was HIS. No one else was allowed to do ANYTHING to his angel. He lowered his gaze so that Newt wouldn't see the anger there.

He wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of anything to say. So he wordlessly bowed his head and placed a tender kiss to Newt's hurt wrist. Pausing, he waited to see if Newt would shy away again. When he didn't, Minho continued to trace a line of kisses along Newt's wrist to his palm. Stopping there, he moved his mouth to Newt's thumb and let his lips linger.

Suddenly, Newt's hands were on him, one curling in his neckline and the other burying itself in his hair. His breath hitched as Newt dragged him, almost too roughly, up to the blonde's face. Newt didn't say a word before he crushed their mouths together. Minho cupped Newt's face with a hand, the other bracing on the mattress. He tried to stay gentle, mindful of Newt's injuries. But Newt was desperate and needy, kissing Minho in a way he'd never kissed him before. Growling in frustration, he ran his tongue along Minho's lips, asking him to part them. With a gasp, Minho did; Newt's tongue found his and forced a low moan out of Minho.

We're at a hospital, he told himself. We're in public. A nurse could walk in. But he didn't care. He didn't care.

Newt was practically forcing Minho on top of him in the bed, leaning up and catching Minho's lower lip with his teeth whenever Minho tried to pull away. His hands couldn't decide where they wanted to touch more; they grasped at Minho's broad shoulders, his waist, his thighs, his back. At the greedy touches, Minho kissed Newt harder, deeper. Newt whimpered in the back of his throat. This was what he wanted. This was why he was so pleading in his kisses. He wanted Minho to erase what Kyle had done and make Newt his again. Newt needed it so badly. Without thinking, he clawed at Minho's shirt, tearing it up to his chest.

Minho broke the kiss immediately, gasping for air. Eyes wide, he glanced down at Newt's fingers trying to rip his shirt off. His entire back was showing, along with a long stretch of skin from his belt to his chest. "Newt," he said, voice unintentionally husky from their kiss. "W—we can't."

It was the stutter that made Newt grab at his belt and tug him down again. "I don't care," he whined. "I don't care." He lifted his head to meet Minho's mouth, but when Minho leaned back, Newt switched to his neck. He kissed pleadingly at the smooth skin of Minho's throat. He nipped and Minho mewled.

"Angel, please," Minho breathed, trying to edge away. "We have to stop."

"I don't wanna," Newt begged breathlessly. He tugged at Minho's shirt again, but Minho only inched back farther. Newt made a sound close to a frustrated sob and fell back against the pillows. "Minho, please. Please just kiss me."

Minho studied him, studied his bruised face and the brokenness showing through. Bending down, he pressed his lips to Newt's. Newt sighed in relief, but the kiss was only a moment long. Minho then moved to gently kiss the bruise on Newt's cheek, then the one on his forehead. Newt froze. He started to tremble as Minho continued, kissing the mark on his jaw, and then the bandage on his neck. Then Minho slid up again to meet Newt's eyes. "I'll get to all the rest later," he whispered.

His words made Newt realize what he was doing and why he was doing it: acting like a crazy person, tearing at Minho's clothes because he wanted to feel like what Kyle had done could be swept away by Minho. And it couldn't. No matter what he did, nothing would change that Minho was no longer the only person to have seen Newt at his most vulnerable. It killed him inside. Tears pricked at his eyes. "I love you, Minho," he gasped out.

Minho smiled and thumbed Newt's tears away. "I know," he murmured soothingly. "I love you too, sweetheart. Nothing he did will ever change how I feel about you. Okay?"

"Okay," Newt sniffled.

Minho raised an eyebrow at him in a faint spark of playfulness. "Can I put my shirt back on now?"

Newt gave a little laugh. "Yeah." He let go of Minho, albeit reluctantly. He watched as Minho slid off of him and stood up, tugging his shirt back down into place. Newt's head fell back against the pillows as he admired his husband's fluid movements. Minho was here. Newt's heart didn't feel so broken anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

-yay, Part Two! :D

Seriously though guys, this a pretty important chapter. I decided to write from Newt's point of view again, to show how he feels after this awful thing that's been done to him and how he's trying to cope. I also wanted to show a bit of how the Flare really affects his mind sometimes.

There is, as always, a happier ending to this part, so don't worry. Although what Kyle did will always affect Newt in some way, it doesn't mean that he can't move on and be happy.

Reviews, anyone? ;)

Okay, enough from me; you got more Minewt read.-

The Newton's were lucky they were friends with Brenda.

She owned a marvelously luxurious mansion in the countryside, just outside of Glade City. All of her money and the beautiful home had been handed down to her from her parents. They had been the very successful owners of a business in the city, before they passed away in a car accident. Everything they owned had been left to Brenda. The only thing she refused was the business; Brenda wasn't a businesswoman in any way. She preferred to keep her job of training people in martial arts and giving away money to charity when she could.

Now, though, she was giving a different kind of charity. After what had happened to Newt, the police were trying to hunt Kyle down. The investigation included making the Newton's house crime scene. They couldn't stand living in there while the living room was off-limits and the memories were still plaguing Newt's mind. So, when Newt was well enough, they gratefully moved into Brenda's mansion for the time being. Brenda had enough guest rooms for Belle to have one to herself while Newt and Minho took another.

To Belle, the whole experience was a great adventure of arching, creamy walls and castle-like hallways. She only grew serious when she saw Newt for the first time since the hospital, his bruises barely beginning to fade. He smiled a wobbly smile at her, and then nearly cried when she hugged him around the waist. He hugged her back tightly and thanked God again that she'd been away at a friend's when Kyle had attacked him. He didn't know what he would've done if something had happened to her.

It was a dark, summer night when Newt stepped into one of the large, golden bathrooms and turned the shower on. He cranked up the heat as much as he could take it and ducked into the pounding water. Hissing as the hot water seared his skin, he tipped his head back to let his blonde hair get soaked. Grabbing a washcloth, he scrubbed soap into his skin with almost-rough movements. He winced every time the cloth passed over a purple bruise or healing cut. He wanted to wash away every bit of what had been done to him. Kyle had beaten him until he couldn't tell which way was up or down, then had attempted to slit his throat. He'd failed, though. Newt lived.

But there were some things that couldn't be healed. Things that weren't exactly physical. Pausing to stand in the drumming water, Newt lifted a shaky hand. He touched the slash on his throat, now fading into an ugly scar. Then his fingertips traveled to the marks spidering across his neck and down his chest. Marks made by teeth. He shuddered. The memories crowded in on him: Kyle pinning him to a couch by his hair, Kyle harshly kissing his collarbone, Kyle's fingernails digging into his bare hips. It was too much.

Newt fumbled to turn the water off and a deathly silence dropped over the room. He staggered out of the shower and reached for his clothes with trembly hands. Slipping a pair of black boxers on, he tried to push the awful thoughts out of his mind. He bent down to pick up the shirt he'd brought with him: a red T-shirt with a picture of a guitar printed on the front in black. It was one of Minho's. He was about to put it on, but another memory made him freeze. And then they all came tumbling back, one after the other. Kyle's breath in his ear, Kyle's mouth on his, Kyle's hands up his shirt, Kyle's body moving over him.

Too much too much too much.

Newt braced his hands on the ornate sink and bowed his head. Droplets fell from his hair and scattered on the tiled floor. His shoulders shook. "Minho," he whimpered, because he needed him here, now. But he wasn't loud enough and Minho didn't come. Breathing raggedly, he fought against the images as he shoved his arms through the T-shirt sleeves. Pulling it on, he watched in the mirror as it fell over the marks on his chest and stomach. His eyebrow was still swollen though, and his cheek was still purplish, and his arms were a mess. He stared at the mirror. A boy with broken, blue eyes stared back.

In the mirror, he saw behind him the hulking form of Kyle, smirking. "Don't you miss me, angel?" he purred.

Yelping in terror, Newt spun around. Panting hard, his gaze flicked around the room. There was nothing there. He pressed a hand to his forehead. The Flare. Hallucinations. He needed his medicine. He tried to walk to the doorway, but quicker than he could react, Kyle's shadowy figure appeared again. He was much much closer. To Newt's horror, his mind tricked him into thinking he FELT it when Kyle stroked his hair. He stumbled back, his back meeting the sink. Sliding down it to the floor, he wrapped his arms around his knees. "Why won't you look at me, little angel?" Kyle asked in his ear. This time, Newt did call out for Minho, burying his face in his arms. He shivered violently until he heard the door open.

"Newt? What's wrong?" Minho appeared in the doorway, wearing black pj bottoms he must've thrown on and nothing else. His inky hair was still spiked perfectly.

Newt looked up at him from the floor and blinked tears out of his eyes. "I—I need my medicine," he stammered. Then he cleared his throat. "I'm seeing things."

Concern darkened Minho's expression. He looked like he wanted to stay and comfort Newt, but he had to get the medication. "Okay. I'll be right back." He disappeared into the hall.

Newt waited. It was a short wait, but while he sat there, his fear kept coming back in waves. He inched back against the sink when he saw gigantic, gruesome spiders crawling up out of the bathtub, their spindly legs reaching for him. He saw blood spattered up one wall to the ceiling and knew exactly who it belonged to because bright auburn hair was caught in it. He heard Kyle's rough whisper, telling him he no longer belonged to Minho.

Suddenly, the door opened again and Minho was there. He was carrying a mug of something sweet-smelling and a bottle of pills. Kneeling down next to Newt, he held them out. "I found them with your things," he explained, as Newt took the bottle and unscrewed the cap. "And I got you that cinnamon tea you love so much." He smiled at that last part, and looked so caring and beautiful that Newt nearly kissed him.

"Thanks," Newt murmured. He placed one pill on his tongue and took the warm mug from Minho. The tea smelled like Christmas and tasted even better when it went down. It was smooth on his throat and warm straight down to his stomach. He sighed and took another sip.

"Hey, your hair's still wet," Minho remarked, running one hand through Newt's damp hair. He was grinning at first, but then he saw Newt's face. "Are you okay?"

Newt set his mug down on the floor. "No," he answered simply, and grabbed Minho by the back of the neck. He pressed their mouths together in needy, breathless heat. Minho's eyes fell shut and he kissed back, one hand still tangled in Newt's hair. Newt parted his lips, parting Minho's at the same time, and tasted the dark sweetness that was only Minho. Bliss made his hands shake and the burning-wood scent of Minho's cologne made his head spin. He felt Minho's hands pressing into his thighs, flattening his legs out again. He twisted his body so that he could sink back onto the floor and drag Minho on top of him. They never stopped kissing once.

Newt remembered then that Minho was shirtless and suddenly he wanted to touch everywhere. His palms mapped out the shape of Minho's shoulders, and the strong curves of his biceps. His fingers found a path down Minho's chest and over his toned abs. He kneaded his fingertips into Minho's lower back and heard his husband sigh sharply. Some part of him knew that they were making out on the floor in Brenda's bathroom, but he didn't care. He still remembered Kyle. He couldn't stop until Minho made him forget.

Minho's forearms were supporting his body over Newt and it couldn't have been comfortable against the hard floor. But he didn't seem to mind. He ducked down and nudged Newt's head to the side; kissing the scar on his neck first, Minho then left tiny kisses up the center of Newt's neck, then back down again. He found every fading injury there and kissed them too. Newt gasped and hooked a leg over Minho's hips. Minho's hand was traveling down his body, over his stomach, stopping at his boxers. Newt tensed in anticipation as Minho's fingers dipped into the waistband.

Minho suddenly paused. For a moment, he just stayed like that over Newt, panting. Newt watched him close his eyes as he attempted to cool off again. "Newt," he tried, and his voice was husky. "Not—not here. You're sick."

"No, I'm okay now," Newt protested. "It was just an episode."

"Sweetheart, you're hurt and I'm making you lie out on a floor," Minho pointed out with a touch of humor. "You don't need this, you need rest."

Newt shook his head. "I need you."

Minho smiled and kissed Newt's nose. "Come on," he murmured. He sat up, pulling Newt gently by the shoulders up with him. He laughed when Newt growled stubbornly and nipped at his earlobe. The laugh faltered when Newt gave up and closed his mouth over Minho's shoulder instead. He sucked and Minho mewled. "Angel. Not now."

Newt huffed and drew back reluctantly. "Fine." He grabbed his mug from the floor and clambered to his feet. Minho stood up beside him, running a hand through his hair. Newt's shoulders sagged as he stared at his husband. Minho looked so gorgeous with the muscles flexing in his body and his pants hanging much too low on his hips. His olive-toned skin, unlike Newt's, was flawless and smooth. It was unmarked except for the N tattooed over his heart. Newt admired the sweeping lines of the letter, and how it showed that Minho was his, only his.

"I want one," he said aloud.

Minho blinked at him. "Want one what?"

"That." Newt stepped forward and used one finger to follow the lines of Minho's tattoo. "A tattoo."

Minho smiled as he watched Newt's fingertip sliding over his skin. "Of what?" he asked playfully.

"An M."

Minho sobered then. He dropped his gaze to Newt's chest and reached out to touch the place where his heart beat. "I'd like that," he said softly. "If you're sure you want it, for the right reasons." He met Newt's gaze then.

"I do," Newt replied, bristling because he knew what Minho meant. "And it is. For the right reasons, I mean." With that, he took his mug and brushed past Minho to the door. He heard Minho sigh heavily behind him. Good. He should feel bad. Newt strode to the door that led to the guest bedroom they were staying in. Pushing the door open, he went inside and felt cream carpet under his feet. He didn't stop until he reached the sprawling bed and sat down on the far edge of it. It was pillowy with fat, fluffy blankets and pillows as soft as clouds. But it wasn't familiar. It wasn't home.

Minho padded into the room behind him and shut the door. There was silence for a moment. "You don't have to act like this, you know," he said quietly. "I just want to help you."

Newt didn't turn around. "Then don't say things that hurt my feelings," he advised.

"I didn't mean to," Minho argued. "I just noticed that now you suddenly want a tattoo, in the middle of this mess."

Newt glared at him over his shoulder then, setting his mug down on the bedside table. "There's nothing wrong with that," he snapped. "YOU got one."

"You know that's not what this is about," Minho told him darkly. "This is about you and this new—obsession of yours."

Newt stiffened in a burst of anger. "Obsession?" he repeated vehemently. "What obsession?"

"This obsession with you always trying to find some way to prove that Kyle never made you his." Minho pointed at Newt angrily. "You can't stop trying to erase what he did, and it's getting worse every day. You're letting it get out of hand."

"Don't talk to me like I'm some patient of yours!" Newt flashed back. He was shaking, both with the argument and the fact that this was Minho. They'd rarely ever fought since getting married.

"Well, I'm starting to feel like you are! Do you know how bad it feels, Newt, to know that you're trying to use me to get rid of what he did to you?"

Newt snorted. "You have no idea what this feels like," he growled. "And I'm NOT using you."

Minho glowered at him. "Think about it, Newt, okay? You can't look me in the eye and tell me that it's only me you're thinking of when you kiss me. You're always thinking of him, wanting me to make you let him go. And you can't. So you keep trying." He suddenly raked his hands through his hair in frustration. "Dammit, you're even trying to have sex with me to make yourself move on! It's not—it's not because you love me anymore."

Newt gaped at him. Then he stood up, hands in fists at his sides. "None of that's true," he said with an edge of steel. But the truth rustled in his heart and he knew Minho was right. He still pushed it away. "I do everything because love you, and if you stopped acting like this, you'd see that!"

"You're a liar," Minho growled. He crossed the room until he faced Newt, nose to nose. His body was tense as a bowstring. "The Newt I know would never use me because he's still thinking of some other man that did this to him."

"So what're you saying?" Newt demanded heatedly.

"I'm saying you're too damn focused on Kyle to remember that you're in love with me!"

"Oh, so that's what you think, huh? What do you want then, Minho, if I don't love you now? Huh? A separation? A shucking divorce?"

"Don't threaten me with that. Never threaten me with that."

"I don't have to listen to you."

"Angel—"

"Stop calling me that."

Minho blanched then, the anger draining out of his face. Newt glared for a moment longer before he realized what he'd said. His eyes widened and he took a step back. Searching Minho's face with scared eyes, he remembered that this was his husband, the person he'd loved since the eleventh grade. And he'd just threatened divorce. "Oh God," Newt stammered. "God, I'm sorry. Minho, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Minho said, sarcasm dripping from his words. The dark look in his eyes made Newt's heart ache. "I'll remember not to call you that anymore." He turned away from Newt and walked to his side of the bed. Sitting on the edge, he speared his fingers through his hair.

Newt watched him, his heart breaking. He shouldn't have done all the things he did, shouldn't have pushed Minho too far. He hated when they argued, which was hardly ever. Trembling, he shuffled to the opposite side of the bed and slid in beneath the covers. He sat back against the pillows and watched Minho for a minute more. Minho was still.

With a lump in his throat, Newt shifted down so he could lay on his side, propping his head up on a pillow. He faced away from Minho, sensing that was the best thing to do right now. His gaze lifted to the window. The blue-black sheet of the night sky was spread out, studded with diamonds for stars. It looked so clear and so peaceful. After only a minute, Newt missed the feel of Minho holding him while he slept. He'd screwed up. Tears burnt his eyes and he tried to hold them back. But a quiet sob still escaped him.

Suddenly, he gasped, because a strong arm was around his waist and pulling him across the mattress. He was halted by someone's chest against his back, warm and familiar. Blinking tears away, Newt felt Minho nose his hair. "I'm sorry," Minho murmured softly. "Don't cry. Please."

Newt twisted in Minho's arms to face him. Minho was looking at him with open hurt and love in his expression. "I—I didn't mean to use you," Newt whispered hoarsely. "I just..." He trailed off. A single tear spilled and raced down his cheek.

Minho rubbed the tear away with his thumb. "It's okay. Newt, it's okay. I just can't watch you like this, love." He caressed Newt's cheek with his fingers. "It breaks my heart."

Newt clung to Minho's shoulder and buried his face in his chest. He felt the arm around him tighten and released a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I said anything about divorce," he mumbled. "I've never thought of it, not once, I swear. I can't—I can't live without you."

"I know you didn't mean it." Minho began to card his fingers through Newt's hair in slow strokes, soothing him.

Newt lifted his head to meet Minho's gaze. "How can you still want me?" he asked quietly. "When you know what...what he did to me?"

"Because you didn't choose him," Minho replied gently. "You chose me. Before you ever met him, you chose me."

Newt felt new tears in his eyes, but for an entirely different reason. He reached up and traced his fingers lightly down Minho's jaw. His stomach fluttered when Minho's eyes closed at his touch. "Minho," he whispered, and kissed Minho's mouth once. Then he kissed Minho's nose, then his chin, then his mouth again, all featherlight. Minho shivered. "I love you," Newt breathed, and Minho folded him into his arms.

Rolling onto his back, Minho pulled Newt on top of him. When Newt kissed him, he responded hungrily, leaning up into Newt's mouth. They kissed desperately, hands exploring. Newt's fingers found themselves curling in Minho's hair and Minho's knotted in Newt's T-shirt. Newt sighed blissfully and let his body relax, sinking fully on top of Minho. He could feel every glorious ripple of muscle and it left him breathless. Minho left a little sound from his throat and slid his hands lower, cupping Newt's butt over his boxers. Newt gasped into his mouth and pushed his hips forward in return, grinding into Minho. Minho broke away for air, whining in pleasure.

Newt couldn't stop looking for more of Minho's skin to taste. He kissed his collarbone, his chest, tracing the tattoo with his tongue. He only paused when Minho touched his shoulders and pushed him up gently. Minho sat up at the same time, so that he was sitting with Newt straddling his hips. In the dark and the moonlight, Minho cradled Newt's face with a hand. His eyes gazed into Newt's searchingly. "Don't think about him," he breathed. "Just me." He leaned in and nuzzled Newt's neck. "Because no one could ever love you the way I do."

Newt's breath hitched at the words and the possessiveness lacing them. And he wasn't thinking of Kyle. Not at all. The only person in his mind, the only person making him drunk and electric at the same time, was Minho. He nodded silently to show Minho he'd heard. Then he had to lift his arms, because Minho was pulling his shirt up his torso and off. He dropped it onto the mattress beside him. Minho stilled then, pain flickering in his gaze. "Newt..." He lifted a hand, and brushed his fingers over the marks on Newt's neck and chest.

Newt lowered his eyes, ashamed. "I know," he mumbled.

Minho didn't speak. But he did bend forward and kiss the healing wounds on Newt's neck. He trailed his mouth lower, kissing every hurt place on Newt's chest. Newt exhaled shudderingly and closed his eyes. Every brush of Minho's lips on his skin sent tiny flames across his flesh. He felt Minho's teeth scrape along his collarbone and his hands automatically planted on Minho's shoulders. Pushing Minho back gently, he pressed Minho's back into the mattress. He left butterfly kisses from Minho's forehead, down his nose, and then one on his mouth. His hands found the ripple of muscle on Minho's stomach, then slipped lower. Feeling devious, he slid one hand between Minho's legs.

Minho's back arched up as he pushed his hips upward to meet Newt's hand. A whine escaped his throat and his body moved on its own, grinding into Newt's hand for more friction. Newt watched as Minho's eyes closed, and took pity on his husband; he pushed his palm even more into Minho and Minho's breaths became ragged pants. Maybe he was being selfish, but Newt loved it when Minho looked so utterly wrecked, one of his legs around Newt's waist and lovely, low moans leaving him.

Abruptly, Newt pulled his hand away from Minho, eliciting a tiny sound of disappointment. But the blonde only moved his hand up an inch, curling his fingers in the fabric of Minho's pants. Minho lifted his hips off the mattress and let Newt slip his pants down his legs until he could push them off the rest of the way. Reaching up for Newt's face, Minho slid his fingers into blonde hair and pulled Newt's mouth onto his again. Newt drank in the taste of Minho and felt dizzy. He gave a soft sound as Minho took his shoulders and flipped them over; the soft press of pillows met Newt's back.

Newt only ever felt a pang of nervousness when Minho slipped out of his boxers and then hooked his thumbs in Newt's waistband. He hadn't...done this...since what Kyle had done to him. And Kyle...Kyle had been awful. Kyle had been mindless, and harsh, and horrible. Newt was nothing more than a toy to him, that he could use and break and be done with. Newt didn't know if he was ready for this again. But Minho's lips were brushing his ear now, murmuring sweet, hushed things to him, telling him he was beautiful, he was an angel, he was the love of Minho's life. Newt's body relaxed again.

When they both wore nothing to separate them, Newt didn't even wait. He looped his legs around Minho's waist and just breathed out, "please." Then he groaned as he felt the delicious friction of Minho pushing inside of him.

Minho was torturously gentle, maybe thinking of Newt's recent injuries. His movements were slow and careful, his body shaking as he tried to control himself. Newt squirmed under him, because it wasn't enough. "Please, Minho," he begged. "H—harder."

Minho whimpered then, because there was nothing hotter than Newt begging like that. He did as Newt asked, thrusting into him so hard that Newt's head fell back in pleasure. Minho did it again, just as deep, and Newt moaned. This was what he wanted; he wanted Minho to shove him back against the mattress, wanted to feel the breath forced out of him, wanted to hear Minho come apart. He rolled his hips up to meet Minho's movements, desperate for more, even when Minho was grinding into him like this. His hands clung to Minho's shoulders as Minho continued to drive him crazy.

Ducking his head, Minho lightly kissed Newt's ear and whispered hoarsely, "say you're mine." The words were accompanied by a deep thrust of his hips that had Newt mewling deliriously.

"I—I'm yours," Newt moaned out. He felt Minho slide over that sensitive place inside him and it was enough to make his back arch up off the mattress. His gasp tore into the room and Minho must've guessed that he'd found that spot that would make Newt unravel. He thrusted harder, aiming for the same place and hitting it every time. Pure ecstasy made Newt lose his mind. He was panting openly now, completely helpless in Minho's arms. Minho dragged over that place again and Newt cried out at the feel of it. Pleasure so intense, it nearly felt like pain coursed through his body.

Newt sank back against the mattress again, gasping for air. Minho had to brace his forearms on either side of Newt's head to stop himself from falling on top of Newt. Strands of black hair fell down into his eyes, and his chest rose and fell raggedly. Newt stared up at him and a surge of overwhelming love washed over him. He was incredibly, incredibly lucky to have found Minho, and to have Minho choose him to be with for the rest of his life.

With a little whimper, Minho slipped out of Newt and fell back onto the mattress beside him. He laid there on his back, running one hand through his mussed hair. "Shuck, you're still...you still make me lose my mind," he exhaled, in that heart-melting voice. He was gorgeously breathless and drunk in that just-had-sex way that could make Newt's knees weak.

Newt's mouth tipped up and he scooted across the bed to Minho. Tucking himself up against the lean stretch of Minho's side, he rested his chin on Minho's shoulder. One hand splayed carelessly over the ripple of Minho's abs. "Get used to it," he whispered in return, letting his breath play over Minho's skin; he felt Minho shiver. "I plan on keeping you for a long time, love."

Minho let out a short laugh, and turned his head toward Newt's. Placing a kiss on the blonde's head, he wrapped an arm around Newt's waist. "That's fine with me, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'm all yours."


	3. Chapter 3

-Annnd here's the ending! I know I said this would be two parts, but it's really three. This is the last one, I swear, haha. Well, in this chapter you're gonna see: cute Minewt moments, a fight (between Minho and a certain character we all hate), and a tiny scene with Belle and a frog. I hope you like it! Thanks so much for the reviews and support. You're all awesome readers :)-

On Monday morning, Minho decided to go back to the house. He wanted to pick up some of Belle's clothes and see just what the police had done to his living room. Obviously, he wasn't allowed to go inside in the room. Although they'd moved on with their hunt for Kyle, they insisted that no one step foot in that room until they found him. Minho wished they'd just find him already. Four nights ago, Newt had finally confessed to Minho that it was indeed Kyle who did it. Kyle, that shuckface at the bar who had flirted with Newt. Kyle, who had gotten into a not-so-pleasant fight with Minho.

Kyle, who had beaten and raped Newt.

Minho felt furious every time he thought of it. He HATED that a sick, awful person like Kyle had done that to Newt. He couldn't even imagine it. Every time he began to picture it, it sickened him.

He must've been so scared, Minho thought, his heart breaking as he stepped out of the shower that morning. And in so much pain. He had to shove that last part out of his mind. Nothing was worse to him than seeing Newt hurt. He took a deep breath and let it out again. Just get through the day. Go get Belle's clothes and get out of there again.

Bending down, he snagged his boxers from the floor and stepped into them. Then he found his favorite pair of faded jeans and slipped them on too. Pulling his belt through the belt loops, he glanced up in the mirror. His still-damp hair was storm-black and dropped down into his eyes. He wasn't used to seeing it like that. Grabbing the bottle of hair gel from the sink, he started to pour some into his hand.

He'd just gotten done spiking his hair when he heard the door click open. Blinking, he glanced over. A wide smile spread over his face when he recognized Newt's fair hair and glacier-blue eyes. His husband stepped into the bathroom, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. Minho chose the moment to admire the blonde. Newt was way too adorable in red-and-black pj bottoms and a white tee. His arms were still bruised and so was his face. But the cuts at his wrist and neck were healing into jagged scars. It was a start.

Minho reached for his black T-shirt lying on the sink. "Hey. You're up early for someone who doesn't work anymore."

"Mm-hm," Newt hummed in reply. He shuffled across the room and wrapped his arms loosely around Minho's waist. This prevented Minho from putting his shirt on, but Newt didn't seem to care. He rested his cheek against Minho's back. "Why d'you gotta leave?" he asked in a mumble.

"To get Belle some more clothes," Minho answered.

"Oh. Why?"

"Because she needs them."

"Why?"

Because we didn't bring enough." Minho grinned down at Newt's hands on his stomach. "What's up with you today?"

Newt groaned sleepily. "I'm bored," he complained.

"Go and see if Brenda has a chef or something that can make you breakfast," Minho suggested, secretly loving Newt like this. He tried to pry Newt's arms off of him, but Newt just held him tighter. "Newt, I gotta put my shirt on."

"No," Newt replied shortly. He hugged Minho closer and pressed his palms flat against Minho's sculpted abs. A little sound of appreciation left his throat. "Your abs are so hot," he muttered into Minho's back.

Minho laughed like he already knew that, but a slight blush still rose in his face at the compliment. If there was one thing Minho loved more than anything else, it was when Newt complimented him. He attempted to pull Newt's hands away again. "Angel, I have to go."

"Nooo," Newt mumbled. "Come back to bed."

Minho sighed. "You know I want to," he murmured.

"So just do it."

"I can't."

"Yeah, you can." Newt kissed the nape of Minho's neck once, and then again, before resting his chin on Minho's shoulder. His eyes pleaded with Minho's in the mirror. "The guest room has that really awesome bed," he reminded Minho temptingly. "With every damn pillow in the house on top of it." When Minho didn't budge, he went on. "I'll kiss you. Then will you come?" Minho just smirked. "I'll take my clothes off. I'll take YOUR clothes off for you so you don't even have to worry about that. Deal?"

Minho chuckled and turned around in Newt's arms. Affectionately, he rubbed his hands up and down Newt's arms, then stroked his hair. He huffed out a breath. "You're tempting me, I'll admit that," he murmured. "And you ARE going to take your clothes off for me." Newt brightened. "Just not right now." Newt groaned in despair.

"You're such a tease," Newt grumbled.

Minho just laughed at him again. Newt arched a brow. "What's so funny?"

Minho grinned. "You love me."

"I never said that," Newt scoffed.

"Admit it."

"No."

"ADMIT IT."

"Never."

"Isaac Newton, I will tickle you until you beg for mercy."

Newt bit his lower lip, pondering his choices. Then he lifted his chin defiantly. "No."

Immediately, Minho dug his fingers into Newt's sides. Newt yelped and then burst into giddy laughter. He twisted his body to escape, but Minho was faster. He wrapped an arm around Newt's waist to trap him against Minho's chest and used his free hand to attack his sides. Newt was a squirming, giggling mess within minutes. "St—stop!" he gasped out. "Minho! Agh, my sides!"

"I don't hear an I-love-you," Minho chirped. He found Newt's stomach then and poked his fingers repeatedly into it.

Newt squeaked and pushed at Minho's shoulders. But he couldn't escape his husband's hold on him. "Okay, okay!" he managed. "I love you!"

Minho stopped as he'd promised. Newt sagged against him in relief, holding his side with one hand. "Shuck, it hurts now," he complained, giving Minho a dark glare.

Minho grimaced in sympathy. "Sorry, love," he murmured, slipping his hand under Newt's shirt. He gently massaged at the aches in Newt's skin. Newt's eyes fluttered shut and he groaned appreciatively. Minho couldn't resist placing a kiss on Newt's nose. "I love you too."

Newt opened his eyes again and smiled. " Yeah, yeah, I know," he teased. "Go get Belle's stuff already. But know you could've had me if you stayed." He flashed a smirk of his own. His hands slid down to briefly grab Minho's butt, making Minho blush, despite himself. "I like your jeans, by the way," Newt added, before he let go and walked to the door. He was gone in a glimpse of blonde hair and creamy skin.

Minho vowed to find more jeans like these ones and wear them as much as possible.

-x-x-x-

It wasn't a very long drive to his house.

When Minho pulled up outside and shut off the car's engine, he sat for a moment in the quiet. He was staring up out the window at the house. It had white walls and dark shutters, and a neat stone path leading up to a wide porch. Minho loved this house. Everything important to him had happened in this house. Now it was ghostly and still. The windows were all dark. An ominous feeling hung over the place. Minho suppressed a shudder. "Might as well get this over with," he muttered under his breath. He opened his car door and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight. Slamming it shut, he shoved his keys into his pocket and started up to the porch.

As soon as he stepped inside, he knew something was wrong. For starters, a small, purely decorative table that had been sitting in the front hall was pushed over to the wrong place. Minho blinked at it in puzzlement. Had it maybe been like that before? When Kyle had pushed his way inside? He was almost sure that it hadn't. Shrugging, he moved farther into the house. But he was walking noticeably slower now, almost cautious. His instincts told him that something was out of place here.

Making his way past the living room, he refused to glance past the yellow police tape. He just couldn't look at it. Blood still stained the carpet and the couch cushions. You could pick out every place where Kyle had beaten Newt into the ground. Minho headed toward the hallway that led back to the bedrooms. But to reach that, he had to pass the doorway to the kitchen. As he did, a curious thing happened. There was a strange sound from the kitchen, a clatter, like someone had dropped something. Minho froze. There wasn't supposed to be anyone in here. Coal, his cat, was back at Brenda's, with Belle and Newt.

Someone was in here with him.

Tensed now, Minho switched his attention to the kitchen. From here, he glimpsed the steel refrigerator, and the marble island and counters. The stovetop was silent and black. Careful to stay quiet, he slowly approached the doorway. As he did, he could see more and more of the room beyond. He thought he saw a shadow move over the wall. Finally, he reached the doorway and paused. When he saw who was inside, he stiffened. No. NO.

A figure in a black leather jacket was standing with his back to Minho. Greasy black hair flopped down over his forehead and from here, Minho glimpsed a flash of bright green dyed into it. The figure was big, with wide shoulders. He was currently looking through the drawers of the kitchen, pawing through the silverware, as though he expected to eventually find something valuable.

Oh, so now Kyle was a burglar too.

Kyle swore under his breath, disappointed that he'd found nothing. Shoving the drawer shut, he turned around. His green eyes lifted and fixed on Minho. They went round in shock and he halted in his tracks. Minho glared back at him, feeling the slow, dangerous burn of anger boiling up inside of him. They stood rigidly for a frozen moment. Then Kyle seemed to get over his astonishment. His lips curled up into an ugly sneer. "Didn't expect to run into you anytime soon," he said wickedly. "How's that little angel of yours doing?"

And Minho snapped.

"You BASTARD!" He was across the room in two strides, knotting his fists in Kyle's collar. He slammed Kyle back against the counter, hard. Kyle hissed in pain, his hands coming up to grip Minho's wrists. But he couldn't pry Minho's hands away. Minho thrusted his face into Kyle's. "You did this to him!"

Kyle was breathing heavily, glowering with pure hatred in his eyes. "You should've been there," he spat tauntingly. "You should've heard the way he BEGGED me to stop!"

"Shut up!" Minho gritted his teeth.

"Then I told him I'd come after you next, and you should've seen him CRY for you!"

"SHUT UP!" Minho pulled Kyle back and then rammed him into the counter again. This time, he did it so hard that Kyle gave a short cry of pain. "I'll make you pay, do you understand me?" Minho demanded darkly. "You'll regret the day you ever touched him."

"Oh, I won't regret it," Kyle growled back. A sickening grin twisted his lips. "Your pretty little husband tasted better than I thought he would."

Minho snarled and swung his fist forward into Kyle's abdomen. The other man's breath left him in a sharp huff as he bent over at the waist. Gripping his stomach, he shot Minho a smoldering look. Minho grabbed Kyle's collar again and wrenched his face up. "Listen to me, you sick excuse for a human," he sneered. "You're staying here, and I'm calling the police. And they can take your sorry ass to jail and let you rot for all I care. You can say anything you want in there." Then he moved closer. "But if you ever say something like that to me about my husband again, I will end you. Do you understand?"

Then, suddenly, Minho felt something ice-cold and sharp press against his stomach. He blinked and glanced down. Kyle's hand was gripping a knife. And he was pointing the blade at Minho's middle. Lifting his gaze to Kyle again, he saw the other man's awful smirk. "I understand," Kyle said mockingly. Then his smirk disappeared into a more sinister expression. "Now I need YOU to understand. Take your hands off me." He touched the knife against Minho's stomach as he spoke.

Clenching his jaw, Minho let go. He took a step back as Kyle pushed off from the counter with a wince. Touching the hurt place at his back, he gave Minho a scolding look. "That wasn't very nice, was it?" he asked, and he sounded so much like a crazy person that it made Minho's blood chill. "What a shame. I thought you might want to try NOT being difficult." He shrugged. "Oh well." Faster than expected, he lunged forward.

Minho's reflexes kicked in and he sidestepped Kyle's first stab. Then he snatched Kyle's wrist, the one that held the knife, and braced himself for the sound he was about to hear. With one swift movement, he twisted Kyle's wrist back. A sickening crack sounded and Kyle howled in fury and agony. The blade fell to the floor with a clatter; Minho kicked it backwards and it slid out of the room. He looked up at Kyle then, expecting a pause in the attack. There wasn't.

Kyle lashed out, hard, and his fist rammed into the side of Minho's face. Swearing, Minho staggered back a step as flames laced through his cheek. He wasn't ready; he was only just turning back to the fight when Kyle drove his next fist into Minho's stomach. Gasping, Minho bent over. He heard Kyle's cruel, victorious laughter and it sent new rage into him. Ducking down even farther, he slammed his shoulder as hard as he could into Kyle's stomach. Kyle yelped and was shoved back into the counter again. Dishes rattled in their cabinets. Straightening up, Minho gripped Kyle by the neck, not quite hard enough to choke him to death. Kyle let out a strangled sound. "Stay away from my family," Minho ordered in a voice like iron. "Or I swear, I'll kill you."

"You wouldn't dare," Kyle choked out. His hand fumbled behind him, searching the counter.

"Try me," Minho growled.

"Fine. I will." Kyle's fingers found the handle of a frying pan and curled around it. Before Minho could move, Kyle swung it around with all the strength he could muster.

There was a loud, metallic clang as the pan collided with Minho's head. He couldn't even gasp. Fingers falling from Kyle's throat, Minho stumbled back. Stars spun across his eyes and a wave of nausea rose up from his stomach. His head throbbed as though the pulsing of his own blood was enough to shoot pain into his nerves. Fighting to stay steady, he glanced around for Kyle. Kyle's bulky figure rose up in front of him, his usual sneer back in place. He was swinging the pan again, baseball-bat style.

Another piercing bang. Another lightning bolt in Minho's skull. He staggered away until he felt the kitchen table behind him. He tried to let it support his weight and his arm wobbled. His knees threatened to give out. Horrible, deep aches pulsed in his head and he moaned.

Laughing triumphantly, Kyle whipped the pan around again.

This time, the blow was enough to send Minho back into the table. He didn't even realize he'd fallen on top of it until he felt the hard wood pressing into his back. His legs dangled over the side from the knees down. Breathing raggedly, he tried to touch his temple. "Agh..." This was bad. His vision blackened, then came back in short bursts. The room was spinning. Desperate, he pushed himself up, but his arms shook. He collapsed back down again with another weak groan.

There was a clang as the frying pan hit the floor. Kyle's boots sounded on the tiles as he came toward Minho. He tsked with mock pity. "You see what happens?" he asked conversationally. "When you mess with me? You get hurt."

Get up, Minho ordered himself. GET UP. His hands moved over the table, but did nothing in his overwhelming dizziness.

"I don't think you liked getting hurt, did you?" Kyle didn't phrase it like a question. "No, it must've been awful, huh? Kinda like what happened to your pretty blonde."

Minho gathered his arms under him and struggled to sit up. With a gasp, he fell back down again. The room tilted and bobbed in his vision. He could barely glimpse Kyle watching him evilly.

"You wanna hear it?" Kyle asked in a hushed, sinful tone. "You wanna hear what I did to your pretty little angel?"

Minho's stomach clenched. His fingers clawed uselessly into the table.

"I'll tell you then. He LET me in. I knocked on the damn door, and he let me in, just like that. It took me two seconds to drag him into that living room. And once we were there..." He trailed off, giving Minho a terrible look of smugness. "Well. I guess you know the rest. Except for every time he pleaded with me, told me to stop, told me to just let him go." He dropped his voice to a twisted growl. "Even when I was done with him, and he knew I'd kill him, he still begged."

Minho whimpered. "No..." His Newt. His poor poor Newt. He hadn't known any of that.

"Well," Kyle huffed with an air of finality. "Enough of that. I want to see if YOU beg." His footsteps came again, this time coming much closer to Minho.

Minho planted his hands under him and tried again to get up. Again, the dizziness and nausea was too much. He fell back down. Get up, now, he thought sternly. Get up right now. His body wouldn't listen. Kyle must've been watching him struggle because his dark chuckle filled the room. Through his bleary vision, Minho glimpsed Kyle leaning over him. "What a shame," Kyle purred. "I really didn't want to have to kill you when I'm done. But I can't have a repeat of what happened with your little blonde."

Minho glared at him, even with the room dancing in his vision. Then he saw Kyle's malicious grin and felt hands undoing his belt. The anger that surged into him almost made him see red. There was no way in hell that he was gonna let Kyle have him. Not like this. Not when he knew Kyle would make sure he was dead this time. He couldn't do that to Belle, or Newt.

With all the strength he had, Minho drove his knee upward, straight up between Kyle's legs. Kyle let out a sound that resembled a strangling person and fell back. He doubled over, a low groan of pain escaping him. As fast as he could, Minho forced his arms under him and shoved off the table. It sent a fresh wave of fire through his head, but he made himself bear it. Clenching his jaw, he dropped onto the floor and ducked to snatch up the frying pan. He saw Kyle lunge for him, and chose that moment to bring the frying pan up, hard. It slammed into Kyle's forehead, dead-center. He didn't have time to cry out before he was out cold, crumpling to the floor in a heap. He didn't move again, except for the weak rise and fall of his chest.

Minho dropped the pan and it banged onto the floor, the sound ringing out in the empty house. Panting shakily, he reached up to touch his head. He winced at the bruised lump forming there. Damn Kyle. He glanced again at the other man's motionless form. The hatred was still boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. He remembered the knife on the floor. But it only took him a moment to shove the idea from his mind. He wouldn't kill Kyle, not after he'd already beaten him. He wasn't that person. He'd never want to be that person.

Walking on shaky legs, he managed to reach the phone where it hung in its place on the wall. He took it down with a long breath and dialed.

-x-x-x-

As soon as Minho walked through the door back at Brenda's, after the whole fiasco with Kyle and the police/medics after, he was met with Newt. The blonde strode straight to him and flung his arms around Minho's middle. He buried his face in Minho's chest. "Are you okay? Tell me you're okay."

Minho smiled slightly and reached up to run his fingers through Newt's hair. "I'm okay," he murmured.

"...okay." Newt didn't let go of him though. "The police called. They said he hurt you."

"Please," Minho scoffed playfully. "He didn't stand a chance against me."

"I can't believe you fought him." Newt trembled. He hugged Minho tighter.

"Sweetheart, I'm fine," Minho insisted. "See?" He was still smiling, until he felt Newt shivering and saw how Newt kept his head bowed into Minho's chest. His smile faded. "Newt, are you crying?"

Newt shook his head, but when he spoke, his voice was thick. "I just... I thought he—" He broke off as Minho wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Relaxing against Minho's body, Newt closed his eyes.

"He didn't do anything to me," Minho murmured. "He got what he deserved, Newt." He nuzzled Newt's hair, inhaling his sweet scent. "He won't hurt you again."

Newt released a sigh that sounded as though it'd been begging to be let out for a while. Lifting his head, he gave a small smile and kissed Minho's nose. "I love you, Minho," he said softly.

Minho grinned. "Hey, I love you, too," he chuckled.

He was about to pull away, but Newt's hands tightened on his hips. He paused in puzzlement, then he saw Newt leaning in and his eyelids drooped. Newt touched their mouths together and Minho sighed in bliss. He slid his hands over Newt's back to bring him closer. They kissed softly, not wanting it to last too long. But after a few moments, it deepened. Minho didn't intend to let it get out of hand, but soon he found himself kissing Newt as though his life was ending. They were gasping into each other's mouths, drunk on each other. Minho forced himself to pull back at last, his forehead pressed to Newt's. He couldn't find enough air.

Newt nipped at Minho's bottom lip. "Come back to bed with me," he breathed.

Minho gave a tiny moan. "Newt, we already went over this..."

"I don't care." Newt leaned up and brushed his lips over Minho's ear. His breath tickled Minho's skin and made him shudder. "I want to make you come apart for me."

Minho could never resist Newt, not when he said things like that. He would've loved to see how Newt would make him crazy. "Fine," he conceded, with a roguish smirk. The smirk widened when Newt grabbed him by his belt and started to drag him back toward the bedroom.

Sadly, they were interrupted by a voice calling to them from down the hall. "Daddy! Look what I found, look what I found!" Belle came hurtling around a corner, holding something in her hands. Delight lightened her face and her auburn hair spilled out behind her.

Minho groaned softly. "Dammit," he muttered. "The one day you're begging me for sex, and she shows up."

Newt sent him a sideways smirk. "She IS our daughter, you know," he teased. Then he looked at Belle running toward them and he huffed in disappointment too. "Damn, I did want you though."

Minho thought about shoving Newt into bed right then, but Belle was in front of them and there wasn't anything he could do. He smiled down at her as she skidded to a halt, emerald eyes alive with cheerfulness. "What'd you find, sweetheart?"

She held up her cupped hands. "A frog!" she exclaimed. Sure enough, a little green frog sat in her hands as though he was much more comfortable just lying there. He blinked orb-like eyes up at Minho and Newt. Belle beamed up at them too. "I'm gonna name him Jorge!" she declared.

Newt smiled and Minho snorted a laugh. "I got dibs on telling him about this," he murmured to Newt, and Newt sent him scolding glance. Then Minho knelt down in front of Belle. "Jorge's a great name," he told her and she giggled.

"I can't wait to show him to Coal!" Belle paused then. "Do you think she'll eat him?"

Minho shrugged. "Actually there was one time—"

"No," Newt cut him off, bending down beside Belle too, "Coal isn't going to eat Jorge." A half-smile curved his lips. "I'm sure she'll love him."

"Yay! I'm gonna show her right now then!" Belle flitted forward and gave them both a quick hug. Then she scampered off down the hall in search of the calico cat.

Newt and Minho straightened up again and watched her go. Her shoes clapped brightly against the floor and Minho felt warm inside. He wouldn't trade her for anything. Then he blinked as Newt leaned his head on his shoulder; his hand slipped down and their fingers intertwined. Minho smiled. They watched Belle continue down the hallway together.

Minho couldn't imagine anything else he'd ever need.

Just this.


End file.
